It has always seemed to me that what Buddha did, in establishing the first Order of monks and nuns in India, was revolutionary. But we have to be circumspect in asserting such assumptions, as the cultural and political context of the time was so different from ours. What may appear on the surface to have been a counter-cultural departure from norms of the day, may not have been. That is, the Buddhist Sangha may have been only one of many such experiments in alternate lifestyles. In America today, proposing that we all move into the forest, where we spend long hours in meditation, pausing only to go begging through residential neighborhoods for our meals, would not only be considered radical; it would probably land us all in jail.

To make such a public display of our practice path today would invite pushback, in an era of confrontational identity politics, and special-interest movements. This is why Zen is, in my estimation—revolutionary; yes—but it is the quiet revolution.

ZEN IS NOT A CULTZen meditation (J. zazen) itself looks non-threatening, from the outside. The only thing we claim it threatens is the ego, or constructed self. It seems an innocuous exercise in self-improvement, with its emphasis on silent illumination. Socially, Zen communities present as well-intentioned groups of like-minded people, at most a harmless cult. But those who get inside a Zen center come to see that it is the opposite of a cult, in that we strive to train every individual to lead, or at least to define their relationship to the group in a proactive, creative, collaborative way.

But we should not underestimate the power of Zen. Including its effect on our personal lives, of course, but also the ripple-effect on our larger community. There is something radical about sitting stock-still for extended periods of time, doing nothing in particular; not even thinking. That we embrace the process of change that emerges, to be a form of intentional personality disintegration, would be alarming to many, especially those in the mental health industry. Better to take a pill to calm down, than to risk going out of your mind.

ZEN IS COUNTER-CULTURALThat substantial groups would flock together from time to time, to spend whole days, even weeks or months, engaged in purposeless activity, should be even more disconcerting to the overseers of a society that values productivity above all, other than profit. Which terms are virtually synonymous, in a capitalist milieu. But the main social or political issue with Zen practice, fully understood, is that it leads to true independence. Not only of thinking, but even of motive. Whatever their protestations to the contrary, the powers that be would not welcome true independence on the part of the hoi polloi.

Matsuoka Roshi would often entwine his middle and fore-fingers, raising them aloft and declaring, “Mind and body are just one; they cannot be separated.” This is not an example of belaboring the obvious, or debating the Cartesian separation of spirit and body, one of the primary memes of Western culture. It is a concise way of explaining why Zen emphasizes the physical, rather than the mental, in its meditation, zazen.

The question often arises, Why do we not emphasize mental practices, such as meditating upon compassion, for example? Thich Nhat Hahn has done so, in his writings for Western students; and the Buddha himself is said to have conveyed such messages, notably in the “Metta Sutta,” or “Loving Kindness Sutra,” with its refrain, “May all beings be happy.”

Virtues are InnateThe first principle, I suggest, is that human beings are already innately compassionate, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary that we witness in the public sphere; as well as in our own behavior, or inner feelings, toward others. The reasons this innate compassion does not always come to the fore, are all the usual suspects—the underpinning traits of self-centered striving and personal clinging—that Buddha analyzed as the main source of Dukkha, suffering, in this life.

Secondly, while it may be necessary to teach others such values as generosity, the first of the Buddhist perfections (S. paramita); or the practice of compassion; any such teaching is limited to what can be expressed in language, and therefore necessarily conceptual, not actual. The pedagogical theory amounts to hoping that—by going through the motions, and focusing conscious attention on the concept—true compassion, or generosity, or patience, et cetera, will one day arise.

Personal versus Social PracticeThere is nothing wrong with this approach, but it is limited, or one-sided. We should take care to divide Buddhist teachings and practices into two parallel tracks—the personal versus the social—for the sake of clarity, and not to confuse the one with the other. Particularly when it comes to the attitude we adopt in zazen.

On one level, our Zen practice is intensely personal. On another, it is social in its application and import. It is not for naught that Soto Zen stresses the personal practice of zazen over all other methods, including such techniques as koan practice, meditating upon an illogical riddle, of the Rinzai sect; and the various mental preoccupations taught in more traditional forms of meditation, such as Vipassana. I am not trained in either of these methods, so my comments should not be taken as a critique. I am only pointing out the difference in Zen meditation, as I understand it.

Homelessness in America is now the “lifestyle” of over half a million people; in Atlanta alone it affects seven thousand. I know homeless people; and have had some in my own family. This article, however, is not about my personal issues, but about the meaning of homelessness in Zen Buddhism. The teachings of Buddhism are not to be used as criticisms of others, but as a mirror reflected back on the self. So we are not interested in blaming others for unsatisfactory and unjustifiable conditions in our society. As a designer by training, however, I am interested in looking for solutions. And many other people appear to be engaged, as well. But please believe me, this is not a plea, nor even a suggestion, that you should be engaging in so-called “good works” as part of your Zen practice. Not my call.

To speak of leaving home (J. shukke) in Zen is not to rationalize that those who are suffering exposure to weather, and other deprivations associated with living without shelter, are somehow okay; that they are like the mendicants and hermits of old. How each person we see on the streets and alleyways of our cities, and, increasingly, in rural areas and small towns, has come to this situation is likely a unique story. There are many commonalities, of course, having to do with “poor choices,” as the critics like to point out; including involvement in addiction, and other maladies. But these stereotypes, while carrying a grain of truth, do not necessarily point to a solution. “Just say no” is not a viable option, in many cases.

Some sobering statistics from around the world suggest that the problem is not an American one, and that “throwing money at it” may not be the best approach, at least as long as the use of that money is in the hands of politicians and their agents, however well- intentioned. East Germany has been the beneficiary of largesse from West Germany since the fall of the Berlin wall, but has remained essentially flat, in terms of overall financial recovery. So where does the problem begin?

In Zen, it is a standard to say that it begins at home, with the individual. But this is not the same argument of the “haves”: that the “-nots” are responsible. And it does not lobby for the opposite, that the haves are to blame. But it does suggest that for there to be the homeless, there have to be those who are not. And that no one is really not part of the equation, if not part of the problem.